


A Grand Ol(a)’ Problem

by Kato (WritersCoven)



Series: The Emetophobic Poodle Series [7]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: All of my titles are so cheesy, Always in charge, Bri's adorable, Emetophobic character, Freddie is a fantastic boyfriend, Gay, He does care though, He needs to eat more, I'm not sorry, Like all my gay stuff, M/M, Poor emetophobic Bri, Roger seems like an ass, They just go with it, but there's a reason for that, so so much, sweet and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersCoven/pseuds/Kato
Summary: He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had been careful about his sleep habits, the types of foods he ate and where they came from, when he should and should not eat. He followed a strict routine to avoid feeling ill. It should have worked. He should have been fine.In this moment, however, he was far less than fine. His stomach felt full of air swirling around and stirring up a typhoon in his gut, the back of his throat felt tight, and his mouth felt dry. The panic wasn’t helping. His chest ached and his head spun with worried thoughts of What if, What if and the undoubted inevitable.~Emetophobic Brian forgot to eat before doing a long interview, resulting in hunger-related nausea that leaves him frantic. Luckily for him, Freddie is there to remind him that nothing is impossible to handle. And also, to remind him that he needs to eat.





	A Grand Ol(a)’ Problem

**Author's Note:**

> **Heyyyyo! I'm back with more Emetophobe Brian! Because he's honestly the most adorable thing I've ever written. And also the most relate-able. I hope you all enjoy :3**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**

His palms felt sweaty, his face flushed, and his chest thrummed with a steady reminder that he was indeed panicking. Brian shut his eyes and turned his head away from the window behind the camera crew.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had been careful about his sleep habits, the types of foods he ate and where they came from, when he should and should not eat. He followed a strict routine to avoid feeling ill. It should have worked. He should have been fine.

In this moment, however, he was far less than fine. His stomach felt full of air swirling around and stirring up a typhoon in his gut, the back of his throat felt tight, and his mouth felt dry. The panic wasn’t helping. His chest ached and his head spun with worried thoughts of _What if, What if_ and the undoubted inevitable.

He took in a deep breath and held it, letting the oxygen fill his lungs and containing the expelled carbon dioxide within his body until holding it hurt. Only then did he relax and let the air back out. His fingernails dug into his sweaty palms, slipping and sliding along the greasy skin. It felt gross, and only served to worsen his already horrid condition. He released his grip and instead tapped his fingers against his thigh. His opposite leg bounced in constant motion with pent up anxiety. Slowly, Brian wiped his other palm clean on the denim covering his knee, only to return it to a balled fist to build up more sweat a moment later. He swallowed.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, though. That was the thing. He followed every simple instruction he had set for himself perfectly. He made no mistakes, no cheats. Everything was done perfect, just to avoid this kind of scenario.

This interview was just dragging on and on. Brian felt trapped by it. He couldn’t leave without coming off as a royal prick, which would piss the band off, but he also doubted his ability to remain in the room for very much longer. After all, the only thing worse than vomiting was doing it in front of large crowds, and a publicized interview would be a very large crowd indeed.

His stomach gave an uneasy gurgle, a slight lurch that jolted Brian into frenzied panic anew. He shifted in his seat, folded his leg across his other knee and rested his elbows on his thighs. He placed his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes and cheeks, then uncrossed his leg and forced himself to sit up.

Brian’s nervous fidgets caught Freddie’s eye, and when the interviewers had focused on John, he leaned in and whispered, “You alright, dear?”

Brian swallowed, but nodded. He knew that if he told Freddie, the interview would be terminated immediately. Fred wouldn’t hesitate. It would upset everyone else involved with the band, though, including Roger and John. They really needed the publicity. They couldn’t really afford to end an interview because Brian was feeling a little ill.

The focus returned to Freddie, who was bombarded with questions on his most recent proof of musical prowess. Brian chewed on his bottom lip and slid his thumb in and out of the hole made by balling his fingers into a tight fist. Occasionally, he would pop the thumb through his pointer and middle fingers, creating a temporary gap. But this was always temporary. He always returned it to the safe confines of his wrapped palm. His forehead felt hot, like he had a fever, but when he swiped his hand against it no sweat rubbed off of the cool skin. He was burning up inside, but his body felt just as cool as it normally did.

Panic seized his chest, making his lungs heave for more precious air. His hand slowly moved to his mouth, where he pressed the back of his hand to his lips and held it there. His eyes were trained on his shoes, which were both tapping furiously on the hard ground below them. His stomach felt like it contained a small inferno, tossing heat up into his esophagus.

Something rose to the back of his throat, gripping him with fear. It escaped, appearing as nothing more than a small burp of air, but the feeling had left its mark on him. There was no way Brian could stay for the rest of the interview. He cast a nervous glance over to Freddie, hoping to alert him to the situation as nonchalantly as possible. They were still transfixed on the lead singer, however, firing off question after question for him. Brian brushed his hair back into his hand, tossing it over his shoulder before sweeping the hand over the top of his head to brush around more of his black curls.

No one had noticed yet.

Brian was dying and no one had noticed.

He was trapped, he was terrified, there was no possible way for him to handle this. _And no one had noticed._

The interview dragged on just as it had been, as normal and perfect as it was for the past two hours they had been doing it. _How long an interview had they agreed to again?_ Brian felt like they had already been there for an eternity.

No words were exchanged between him and Freddie, but somehow Brian must have managed to get his issue across to the other man. Freddie, while still looking at the camera and answering the questions, placed one steady, safe hand on Brian’s knee, giving it a tight squeeze of trust and reassurance. Brian relaxed, his shoulders and back untensing. He hadn’t even realized that they were rigid.

“I’m afraid to say, loves, but I think that’s all the time we’ve got,” said the singer. He gave Brian’s knee another squeeze. “We’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of us. Thank you, though. It’s been quite a pleasure.”

Inside, Brian was crying with relief. He knew that Roger and John were staring at them, he knew that they were going to be upset, but it didn’t matter. He was going to be okay. Freddie was going to take care of him.

The interviewers gave their thanks and left with a shake of everyone's hands. Brian wiped his on his jeans to dry them as best he could, but he knew that it did very little to hide his current condition. Once they were gone, Roger immediately turned to them.

“What was that?” he asked Freddie, his eyes narrowing.

Freddie didn’t even flinch at Roger’s tone. “Bri’s unwell, dear. Isn’t that obvious? How cruel, trying to continue an interview with him in his current condition.”

“Brian looks fine to me,” Roger snapped. Brian swallowed again. His stomach grumbled, low and angry.

John stood a pace away from the others, examining the taller man. “He does look a little pale,” he pointed out.

Roger rolled his eyes. “Of course he does. Brian’s always a little pale.”

Another swallow, this time worrisomely thick. Fear gripped him, and he turned to Freddie, grasping for the other man’s hands with his head bowed low. Freddie pulled Brian into him and led him over to one of the chairs in the hotel room. Helping Brian into the chair, he knelt down and cupped his poodle’s chin in his hands, their eyes meeting.

“What is it, dear?” he asked, his tone soft and loving.

Brian’s lip wobbled, and he quickly bit down on it to hold the tremors back. “Don’t feel well, Fred,” he admitted, dropping his gaze.

Freddie forced him to return it immediately. “Look at me, love. Look, up, up, there. Yes. Good. How do you not feel well? What’s wrong?” He had a pretty good feeling he already knew, but it was best for Brian to tell him rather than him try to guess.

“I don’t know,” Brian sobbed. His voice dropped to a whisper as he repeated, “I don’t know.” He could feel the tears building up behind his eyes, threatening to spill over if he wasn’t careful.

“Hush, dear,” Freddie said, sliding his hand up around Brian’s cheek. Bringing himself to a standing position once more, Freddie gently kissed the top of Brian’s forehead, checking for fever while also supplying comfort. With dismay, he found no temperature. If it had been a fever, Freddie would have at least known where to start. Now, it could be any number of things. He moved his hands to small fists pressed lightly against Brian’s cheekbones and rubbed his thumb across the flushed skin, caressing his love while he asked, “How well have you been sleeping?”

“In bed by eleven at the latest, every night,” Brian answered. Sick and panicked as he was, he answered this with enough pride to make him smile.

Freddie took this joy as a positive sign. “And food? What kinds of things have you been eating, love?”

“I’ve avoided excess junk, Fred. I’ve been very careful about it.”

_Fuck._ Freddie was running out of ideas. He cast a glance in Roger and John’s direction, hoping they would have something.

“What about today, Bri?” Roger asked. “What have you eaten today?”

This question caught Brian off-guard. He blinked, sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and thought. His stomach cramped, growling once more at him. After thinking, he shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve eaten anything today, actually.”

“And there ya’ go!” Roger smirked. “Gotta eat, Bri. That’s sort of a big deal to the stomach.”

“Here, dear, have some of this,” Freddie offered, pulling out a granola bar he had kept in his jacket pocket. Brian accepted it, but didn’t open it. He held the wrapper up to his lips and stared up at Fred, his eyes filling with emotion.

“They’re quite cute, aren’t they?” John snickered, elbowing Roger.

“You’ve got to open it, love. Here, let me help,” Freddie smiled, taking the granola bar back and pulling it open. He held it out for Brian once more, and this time, when the other man took it, he nibbled on the edges. Freddie rubbed a hand over the poodle-man’s untamed curls and asked, “Feeling better yet?”

“Yes, actually, quite. Thank you,” Brian muttered, smiling up at Fred.

“Anytime,” Freddie beamed, bending to leave a kiss on Brian’s cheek. “I’m always here when you need me, love.”

“Quite cute,” John chuckled.

“Indeed,” Roger laughed. “Best relationship of the year.”

“Oh, fuck off, both of you,” Brian and Freddie snapped in unison, before falling into their own fit of giggles. Once it had passed, Freddie patted Brian’s shoulder and added, “Glad it’s helping, dear.”

“Yeah, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Well? Did I do him justice? Was this a better masterpiece than the first? I think so! Thanks for reading loves! If you have any prompt ideas you want me to do, for phobias or plots or anything, let me know! I'm running a little dry and am bound to at least consider anything.**   
>  **Especially for Emetophobe Brian. I would love to be smacked with a bunch of requests there XD**   
>  **Anyway, if you enjoyed, don't forget to Kudos, bookmark, comment, whatever it is that you lovies do! Adios from your dear Kato!**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**


End file.
